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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29300769">Third Time's the Charm</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonmoonandthemorrigan/pseuds/moonmoonandthemorrigan'>moonmoonandthemorrigan</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Critical Role (Web Series)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe that isn't ever gonna happen, And some poetic shit, Bard! Toya, Canon typical violence and flirtation, Gen, I noticed that he did some alphabetical nonsense with the way that he names himself, Lucien-Mollymauk-Nonagon-?, Mighty Nein (mentioned) - Freeform, Not beta'd or edited because we die like Mollymauk Tealeaf, Resurrected Mollymauk Tealeaf, We partially stan a problematic mess... All of them.</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 07:21:47</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,603</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29300769</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonmoonandthemorrigan/pseuds/moonmoonandthemorrigan</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>So, the Somnovum's gone and with it the soul that used to be Molly's... Right?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Beauregard Lionett &amp; Caleb Widogast, Beauregard Lionett/Yasha, Mollymauk Tealeaf &amp; Yasha</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>45</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Third Time's the Charm</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>           It's a year and a half to the day since the end of the Somnovum debacle and Caleb's still not sure how they ever got out of that mess. But they did and somehow the Mighty Nein still survived to see the familiar lavender tiefling fall once again (lifeless, soulless, and like many things that Caleb has seen and experienced, unforgotten). The eyes had flickered out to simple white scars as the Somnovum had been pushed out of the body and tore the last living remnant of their friend with it into the Ethereal plane where it was locked out with the burning of the book and now there was only the matching scar tissue and the repeating memories that he still had nightmares about.</p><p>          But they were still alive and still kind of together despite the small hiatus from adventuring that they were currently ending. With the Cerberus Assembly deconstructed almost as an afterthought to the gibbering terror of the Somnovum being banished forever with an almost-zero chance of making it back to this plane, everyone had decided to disband for a few months to meet back-up for the party's fourth anniversary in Trostenwald. So he was here, traveling slowly to savor the road, in Zadash curled up around a cup of Trost and waiting for both Beau and Yasha to join him a few weeks before the planned reunion in Trostenwald where Veth and Fjord and Jester were to meet them before all of them ended up traveling the rest of the way to Nicodranus where Caduceus had created his own little grove on the cliffs of the city before they started their wandering again.<br/>
        And now he was sitting in the Song and Supper waiting for the disaster Lesbians to walk into the bar and give him welcoming shoulder bruises. For now, he was just sitting here and staring at the grain in the wood at the table that he was currently sitting at trying to decipher whether or not that was actually a Jester-original dick in the wood or whether he was just seeing what he wanted to see.<br/>
         He rather thought that before he left he'd have to leave a similar mark next to it just to mark the occasion: he was less worried than he had been in a while—after all, he was not near enough to Rexcentrum that Astrid (who had ascended to her pleasure) would bother him about taking half of the responsibilities that Ikithon's trial and death had created; was about to see his Schwester and one of his closest friends to tease the both of them about the matching tattoos that they had Jester give them the last time that she saw them (the only way he knew about this was because Jester had excitedly messaged him with the news about a week ago); and he was going to enjoy a great meal before the three of them headed down the road.<br/>
      The chatter of a regular bar clattered around him and he was at enough peace that he could feel the quirk up at the right corner of his mouth as the band began to tune and the pleasant hum of the small amount of alcohol in his system. Caleb wasn't sure whether he'd ever be truly happy again but he was trying and today seemed to be a good place to start... He wondered whether those kind of thoughts would ever stop sounding a bit like Caduceus or Jester.<br/>
       A song began to issue out from the orchestral pit as a young dwarven woman ascended up onto the stage. She was, if he could actually tell for a dwarf, around a teenager and had a long braid of golden hair that traveled down her back to meet the back of her knees as she prepared her throat.<br/>
      The table rocked into his side and the grin grew to split his face. Without looking, he said, “Beauregard, you're late.”<br/>
      But instead of the friendly punch and an equally sarcastic mumble of “I'm not a fuckin' time piece, Caleb,” the voice was far rougher and there was a familiar lilt that made his blood run cold with the thoughts of a mountain precipice where they left the body to decompose and be eaten by the elements and a coat, beautiful and stained and empty, fluttering in the wind as they walked north mourning.<br/>
      “My apologies, I am late. But the better to watch the show with a gorgeous companion.”<br/>
      Caleb turned and saw a lavender smirk curling up over his canines as the tiefling gave a little bow. He was speechless. How? Why? And why the fuck now when he, Caleb, had finally started to get a hold on the guilt that they'd left him without a proper burial?<br/>
     The tiefling continued, “I wouldn't miss this for the world though, friend. I've been waiting to see her perform for the past three weeks since we came down from the Ashkeepers. And I am going to be frank with you, you haven't seen anything like my young friend over there.”<br/>
     His hand pointed up at the young woman on the stage who started to sing a haunted lilting tune that Caleb somehow recognized. The hand hadn't changed much, it was still long and graceful but adorned again in rings of various sizes and gold had been added to the pale scars where the red eye had been and he wondered whether the tiefling could remember what they'd originally been. Caleb rubbed his own scars a bit as he followed the tapered talon to the dwarven girl who was now strumming a lute rather lazily as the harmony joined the pure quiet voice that was slowly enchanting the entire audience in the Song and Supper. Small tattoos spiraled up over her fingers and down her forearms, on one of which, a small jade bracelet jangled. And he finally realized that he recognized her from--of all places-- the circus. What had her name been Tova? Toya?<br/>
     “Sorry, if my presence is unwanted, but I needed a seat.”<br/>
     Caleb cleared his throat as he tried to figure out what--Lucien? Mollymauk? Someone completely different?--wanted from him. “What gave you that impression? Mr?” <br/>
     “Ozymandius Fletch, Ozy to my friends. You haven't looked me in the eye since I sat down Mr?”<br/>
     “I do not look a great many people in the face, Mr. Fletch.” Especially ones that should be dead twice over.<br/>
     “Bullshit.”<br/>
    “'I like my bullshit. It's good, it's happy, it makes other people happy.'”<br/>
    “That's a charming sentiment, I rather like it Mr?”<br/>
    “What do you want with me, Mr. Fletch?”<br/>
    “Ozy, friend,” the tiefling sank back into his chair and reclined. Like both of his previous iterations, he looked the most comfortable reclining against something or other... The bastard. “Who says I want anything to do with you, Mr?”<br/>
     “You're quite persistent with wanting to know my name for not wanting anything to do with me, Mr...Mr. Ozymandias.” Caleb turned his attention back to Toya back on the stage. She was good, almost as good as Marian and he wondered when she'd had the time to get lessons. Her voice was far more refined than when he'd last heard her.<br/>
     “Oh, you are very attractive when you're being condescending,” he heard the slap of Ozymandias's tail as it slunk underneath his chair like a cat interested in prey. Caleb was not interested in being prey.<br/>
     “I have been told that before, Mr. Fletch. And it was not a compliment then, it is not a compliment now.”<br/>
    “My mistake, I just wanted a nice night with someone I thought was incredibly attractive. There's no reason to...”<br/>
    The door swung open behind them with an almighty crash and a burst of energy that Caleb recognized and a stumbling, “Shit, Caleb, I'm sorry for being late.... YOU!”<br/>
    The song stopped as Toya looked up and noticed Beauregard with a repeated, “YOU!”<br/>
    For a moment, all was silent. Beauregard looking at... at Ozymandias... Toya looking at Beau and Yasha slowly coming in behind her with her head down, gazing at a small purple flower, and slowly looking up to the rest of the bar, who were staring at this strange stand off between performer and audience members. Beauregard rushed toward Ozymandias jumping as her left hand raised up to give a wild haymaker but before it landed, before it crashed into the orbital of—huh look at that his eyes were golden now— Toya's raised hand, the one with the jade bangle upon it, descended with an earsplitting noise that seemed to become a solid wall of sound.<br/>
    “GO TO SLEEP!”<br/>
     It almost collided with her head as Caleb's fingers began to run through the motions of Counterspell, Toya's magic fizzled as the spells collided but Beau's fist slowed enough, as she glanced toward the stage where Toya stood vengeance personified, and Ozymandias ducked with the same fluidity as his counterparts.<br/>
     “Oh we're doing this then?” Ozymandias asked as he bit his lip, looked at Toya, and a trickle of blood began to drizzle down his sharp chin and both his and Beauregard's eyes went black. His hands went toward his scimitars that he struck against the back of his neck and he stood waiting for her next attack.<br/>
     Yasha stood her eyes wide and trying to understand what was going on, her hands were slow as her hands locked around the Magician's Judge and removed it from the scabbard at her back as she walked to where her girlfriend stood, black blood tears running down her face, cussing, and attempting to headbutt the recalcitrant revenant and missing, cussing again. Her eyes were locked on Ozymandias a complex look of grief, confusion, and rage fluctuating about her face as she stood her ground. What she was looking for, Caleb had no idea.<br/>
    The bar burst into chaos as Toya sprinted off of the stage toward Beau, somehow just as fast and just as furious, her hand shooting out to grab a thick pewter tankard as Beauregard regained her sight. The pewter came swinging in fast and sharp and deep toward Beau's eyebrow and there was a solid thunk, that Caleb will be teasing her about later, as it hit and the rest of the bar began to go apeshit. The orchestra seemed to have shrugged as their prima-donna left the stage and started a bar fight before going on to play a theme appropriate rag-time. Beau's hands grabbed her wrist and instead of hitting Ozymandias, her fist buried itself into Toya's face. Caleb ducked in front of Lucien-Mollymauk-Nonagon-Ozymandias's blades as he tried to launch himself at Beau and transformed himself into a Moorbounder and took a quick bite at him. His shoulder felt good between the crooked teeth, like it did every time he turned into a cat-like predator, so did the slight spurt of blood. He shook it a bit.<br/>
     The tiefling was muttering something in panicked breaths something like-- “shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.”--and there was a small bit of Moorbounder-Caleb that was pleased that he sounded like he'd become the prey that he'd been attempting to turn him into before the bite of an ice-coated sword bit into his bulky shoulder that he could almost see with his off-centered eyes. Ow. He dropped the angry spitting thing back onto the ground.<br/>
     A shattering scream came from behind him as Yasha held up her sword and a great radiance poured off of her shoulders as bright frightening wings flared out behind her. Caleb lost the spell and reverted back to skinny slightly scruffy wizard. Damn it. Silence again descended upon the entire bar as her heavy boots walked deeper into the bar.<br/>
    “That's Enough.” She said as she lowered her sword and put her hand on Beau's shoulder.<br/>
    “But Yasha...”<br/>
    Yasha's face was sterner than it usually was when faced with her girlfriend. Beau's eyes went wide as she lowered the bard back to the floor. Caleb really wished he hadn't seen that look and silently begged every god that could possibly be listening for them not to decide that they wanted to sleep in the tower tonight. He made a note to make their room<em> soundproof</em> because when had gods ever listened to him.<br/>
     “Yasha?” Toya's voice was still as raspy and whispery as it used to be, a fifty-year old chain-smoker's voice in the head of a teenager. It was slightly less disconcerting as it had been when she was smaller. “Yasha, is that really you?”<br/>
      Yasha looked at her, for a moment, “Toya?”<br/>
     “Yasha!” Toya rushed toward her and tension floated even thicker into the room as everyone was unsure whether or not she was going in for an attack, but instead her arms wound as far as they could around her waist. “I haven't seen you in years! Are you okay? I thought you'd be with Mollymauk but you weren't and Mollymauk wasn't Mollymauk either so...”<br/>
    “Hey kid, give her a sec, won't ya?” Beau said as she tapped the girl awkwardly against the side of her head. “Nice right hook though.”<br/>
    “I told you, I'd get you back.”<br/>
    “You did,” Beau turned to look back at Ozymandias, her eyes narrowing again. “He with you?”<br/>
      Toya let go of Yasha and glared at Beau. “Why? What do you want with him? He's not like Kylre, you can't hurt him.”<br/>
      She marched directly in front of him and shoved Caleb out of the way as she planted herself between the three of them.<br/>
    “You know these fuckers?” Ozymandias asked, as his hands clutched his swords a little tighter. Caleb thought he could see goosebumps sprouting on the back of his neck and a small flash of fear in his eyes as he stared right back at Beauregard.<br/>
    “I only know Yasha, from before.... You know, the Circus.”<br/>
    “With the other me?”<br/>
    “Actually, Mr. Fletch, we knew a couple of your... you's...” The words felt awkward and stumbling as it usually did when he was coming back from in Tierformen especially in common. “The last time we met ended very badly. Verstehst du?”<br/>
     “We've met others who knew me,” Ozymandias snarled, the sharp teeth bared as he crouched so that his head was only barely above Toya's, “What do you want from me? I'm not that fucker whoever he was and...”<br/>
     “We want nothing from you. Just to be left alone.”<br/>
     “I said it before, but, Bull. Shit.”<br/>
     “You asked me why I would not look into your face. I have known two men that shared that face and it is difficult to see a man who you know is twice dead, walking and talking to you.”<br/>
    “You talked to him?”<br/>
    “I thought he was you, Beauregard.” Caleb wished he could enjoy the look of disgust that crossed her face. “So yes, I talked to him.”<br/>
    “Why is it always the pretty ones?”<br/>
    “Because you've always had horrible taste in men.”<br/>
    “Fine,” the tiefling relaxed, “but I still want an introduction if you don't mind.”<br/>
    “Caleb.”<br/>
    “Well met, Mr. Caleb,” Ozymandias glanced around at the rest of them. “And the rest of you?”<br/>
   “Not until you tell me your name, fucker. We're not doing this answering with no answers again. We've learned from last time.” Beau said.<br/>
     He bowed, the swords flaring out in the same showman's bow that Lucien refused to ever use. “Ozymandias Fletch, at your service, oh Grumpy One. My friends call me Ozy. You can call me Mr. Fletch. Or your highness, if you prefer.”<br/>
    “Fuck off.”</p>
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